


Loss of Fear/Fear of Loss

by junko



Series: Curse of the Nue [33]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji wakes up and thinks about Byakuya; Byakuya can't sleep and thinks about Renji.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss of Fear/Fear of Loss

**Author's Note:**

> Notes on Japanese toliets: from my extensive research into the history of toliets, it seems that in the Edo period the upper/middle class Japanese used chamber pots. People living in row houses (and one presumes in other common living arrangements like a barracks) would have had access to outdoor stalls, not unlike an outhouse that would be familiar to Western readers, except that they tended to be several adjoining ones, each with a door that covered only the lower part of the body. It's this last thing that Renji refers to as a soukouka. (Also, most traditional toliets in Asia are "squat" toliets.)
> 
> The poem at the beginning is not translated because it's rude, and involves the giant testicles of the tanuki swaying even without a breeze.

_" Tan Tan Tanuki no kintama wa_  
 _Kaze mo nai no ni_  
 _Bura bura bura_ ".... 

Renji’s nightmares started to be worse than the pain of being awake.

This time, when Renji awoke from yet another dream of chasing Zabimaru and fighting Ichigo/Byakuya, it was deep in the night. From the sound muffled conversation beyond the bars, it was just about time for a shift change. Renji lay on his back and watched the moon cast a square of light on the ceiling through the barred window of his prison.

He could tell he was getting better. Even though his whole body still ached and it seemed every move tore a stitch, Renji was getting hungry—really, really hungry.

And he had to pee like a sonuvabitch.

He’d wait for the next set of guards to get assistance going to the toilet, however. He could hear the Fifth Seat talking with the Eighth, and both of whom, by chance, were women. While it might be sexist, Renji really didn’t want female assistance in such a personal manner. Besides, with the clunky wooden handcuffs still binding his hands together, Renji wasn’t even sure he could manage everything himself.

Renji shifted on the cot. Hopefully new guards would be here soon, though.

He glanced over at Zabimaru. The silver-white part of its blades gleamed in the darkness. Renji always loved the look of his zanpaktō like this—released and showing its teeth. Zabimaru was getting stronger if he could stay like that, even when Renji was passed out. So why wasn’t he back yet?

“Hey, are you asleep?” Renji asked Zabimaru.

He listened intently, but there was no response from the zanpaktō. Was he being sulky? Or were his injuries really that severe?

Dread filled Renji’s guts with ice at the thought that Ichigo’s Getsuga Tenshō might have disrupted their soul connection like that blast of Byakuya’s kidō had done in the alley. But, he was comforted by the fact that Zabimaru was intact again, finally. He wasn’t broken pieces any more. He was clearly healing.

Perhaps it would just take time.

Or maybe it was something else…. something besides these walls and manacles that was holding him back, keeping him from Zabimaru.

 _Fear_.

That’s what the dreams were about, really. There was a reason Renji was always running through the alleys and streets of Inuzuri. It was because that place always made him feel cornered, helpless, and weak.

Ichigo was standing in his way because… well, because Ichigo had kicked his ass and had reminded him that he’d always been a coward when it came to fighting for Rukia.

 _Fear_.

Ichigo morphed into Byakuya time and time again because…. Byakuya had taken Zabimaru from him in that alley, and then he’d told Renji to put his face in the dirt and kiss Byakuya’s feet. That whole moment with Byakuya had become a twisted up mess of fear because it had triggered old memories from Inuzuri about defeat, failure, and powerlessness. It had made Renji remember the feeling of being on his knees, of being willing to give up pride to try to save a friend.

Which was pretty much where Ichigo had left him, too.

He hadn’t quite been on his knees, but Renji had shamed himself begging that kid to save Rukia.

Fear stood between Renji and Zabimaru. Renji was sure, if he could just conquer this fear, Zabimaru would be back.

But, how the fuck was he going to do that?

When he finally heard masculine voices, Renji slipped his legs out from the covers and let them fall over the edge of the cot. Bare feet touched cool, smooth stone. He pulled himself up to a sitting position slowly, careful of bandages and stitches. He was pleased by the moderate amount of pain this exertion cost him. Renji sat for a moment, catching his breath. Standing, however, was going to be intense. It especially sucked because his hands were still bound in front of him by the wooden manacles, and he was going to have to use all those damaged core muscles to propel himself to his feet.

What did his zenjutsu instructor at Academy always say? ‘No pain, no gain.’

So, after a deep breath, he heaved himself up with a growling sort of kiai. Then he staggered over to the bars just as the guards were rushing to the door.

Oh, thank fate, at least one of them was Seventh Seat Yuu Kinjo. In his perpetually scratchy voice, Kinjo asked, “What the hell are you doing up, lieutenant?”

“I have to piss,” Renji said, trying not to sway like a drunk.

The other guard, the Tenth Seat, Isoroku Shimazaki, a quiet, reserved guy with short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair, was staring agape at Renji’s tattoos. Apparently Shimazaki had never seen Renji shirtless before. To be fair, not a lot of people had.

“Aw, jeez,” Kinji said, running his fingers through purple-tinted hair. “Seriously, sir?”

“How many days did you think I can hold it?” Renji asked. “I’ve been here… actually, I have no idea how long I’ve been here. Forever?”

“Almost two days,” Kinji said with a smile, reaching for the key in his kosode.

The Tenth Seat gave Kinji a warning look, “What if it’s a trick?”

“What if I wet my pants?” Renji asked. "How pathetic would that be?"

The Tenth ignored Renji, and put a hand on Kinji’s sleeve. “The captain will kill us if he gets out. He doesn’t even like letting the Fourth in.”

“That’s the captain for you,” Renji agreed. “However, I still need to pee. I’d save you all the trouble and piddle in the corner over there, except I’m still going to need help.” He lifted his manacles hands to show them. “I can’t undo the obi like this, can I?” Renji let out a long sigh and added, “And, honestly, I’m too weak to squat for very long. Somebody’s going to have to hold me up.”

Apparently, the pathos in Renji’s voice softened even the Tenth Seat’s hard heart, and they agreed to take him to the sōkōka. During the long, arduous process, Renji heard a lot of idle gossip. Aizen was dead. Someone, everyone thought maybe one of the ryoka, had murdered Aizen really dramatically—stuck him on the wall with his own zanpaktō. Renji was grateful he was too preoccupied with his bodily functions or he would have muttered, ‘about time.’

More disturbing news was Kira and Momo were in jail for insubordination-- or something. Kinji and Shimazaki were really loose on the details of that one, unfortunately. There was some kind of fight between them, which Renji had a hard time believing. There must be more to that story.

The thing the two guys really couldn’t get over, however, was that one of the ryoka—and Renji was damn sure he knew exactly which one—had reportedly taken down Kenpachi Zaraki. Taken down! Sent him to the infirmary!

By the time he was tucked back into bed and the prison door slammed shut, Renji’s head was swimming with all the news.

 _Holy crap_ , Renji thought, _Ichigo might actually be able to do it_. If he really did take out Kenpachi, Ichigo had the brute strength to face Byakuya. The problem of course was skill and… bankai. Byakuya had it all—finesse, kidō,  and bankai. Ichigo probably didn’t even know what half of that stuff even was yet. Not that ignorance was any handicap to that kid and his wicked crazy-ass ability to grow exponentially stronger with each fight, or so it seemed.

Kenpachi.

Damn.

To be a fly on the wall, eh? That must have been an awesome fight.

The square of light through the prison window had moved part way down the wall now. Renji was exhausted from his trip to the toilet. He knew he should try to get some sleep, but the thought of falling into another nightmare kept him awake.

Cripes, he couldn’t be such a chicken shit that now he was afraid of sleeping, too, could he? Renji glanced over at Zabimaru again, wishing he had the strength to crawl into bed with him. He was always comforted by Zabimaru’s strength when they were together. No one had ever been able to defeat them until Ichigo.

Not even Byakuya.

Because when Renji thought back to the alley clearly, without all the gut-wrenching flashbacks to Inuzuri, he remembered the truth. The truth was, Renji hadn’t gone to his knees because Byakuya forced him or overpowered him. Renji had done it willingly. He’d done it because he thought he needed to—to protect Zabimaru, and, in a way, for Byakuya, because he’d still been stupid enough to think love was possible between them.

Well, without love, what was stopping Renji? What did he have to be afraid of?

Suddenly, Renji felt it, a kind of rumbling deep inside, like a distant howl.

The demon was waking.

 

#

The sun was starting to break on the horizon, and Byakuya hadn’t slept much at all. He’d thought to stay at the estate, but the bed there felt too big and empty. So, he’d left it and taken a pre-dawn stroll through the gardens. As he walked barefoot along the dew soaked paths, Byakuya tried to process all the pieces of the puzzle of Aizen’s death and what it could mean to the Gotei 13 and the Soul Society.

But, somehow, he’d ended up at the shrine to the tanuki with Renji on his mind. The tangled wildness of the tiny island was a stark contrast to the perfectly manicured gardens. Staring at the ridiculously swollen testicles on the raccoon dog statue, Byakuya always wondered which of his ancestors felt such a strong affinity to this crude trickster god that she or he had commissioned this temple in the very center, the heart, of the estate grounds.

No other Kuchiki since seem particularly fond of it. In fact, the temple had fallen into ruin and disrepair. Moss clung to the roof tiles; weeds widened cracks in the foundation. In the shadowed moonlight, the decrepit building seemed more sinister than holy.

Byakuya sat on a large boulder—part of a natural rocky outcropping the temple designer had incorporated into the grounds. He looked up at the crescent moon shape at the top of the temple, like the tanuki statue always did. The moon and the wild dog, tangled together always in myth, forever.

Indeed.

In the temple of the dog, Byakuya should probably pray for Renji’s health, but he couldn’t. He’d been unable to formulate any kind of real celestial entreaty since Hisana’s death. He’d always been dutiful in his respects to the gods previously, but he’d prayed for Hisana daily. Every single day, Byakuya had asked the gods to intervene to spare her, supplicating himself for a miracle.

None came.

In fact, it had seemed the harder he’d begged, the more he offered, the sicker Hisana grew. Until the day that he swore he’d give his own life in exchange, and she’d faded, like a spring flower, in his arms.

Byakuya hadn’t prayed since. Even though it angered his family, he refused to participate in any of the holy days. He wouldn’t even light incense to the dead. The gods had betrayed him; he would give them nothing more.

And still they demanded sacrifice. They would take Rukia from him in a matter of days.

 _Well,_ Byakuya thought bitterly, _they could have her._ He’d always harbored a dark and secret resentment of Rukia. He’d spent all that time and energy begging fate to save Hisana, yet she’d died, suffering and in pain. Rukia survived—healthy, strong. A stranger with his wife’s face. It was as if the gods mocked him. Every day. Hisana had made him promise to keep Rukia safe and adopt her into the family, so that she would call him brother. He had done that, but it cost him every day to see his wife in someone he could never have—someone he didn’t even know.

Someone he didn’t _want_ to know.

It wasn’t Rukia’s fault, but, most of the time, Byakuya couldn’t even stand to look at her. For the last fifty years, his wife haunted him in Rukia’s every movement, every shy, hopeful smile. All Rukia wanted was for him to care for her a little, but Byakuya didn’t want Rukia in his life.

He wanted Hisana.

He would curse Hisana for this burden of her look-alike sister, but how could he? How could she have known how much he’d suffer, how much her sister would remind him of his loss?

In some sick way, Byakuya would be relieved when Rukia was gone. He hated himself for it, but there it was. Maybe with Rukia gone he could finally move forward, finally be able to say good-bye to Hisana.

Tanuki grinned at him underneath his straw traveling hat. The smile seemed to tease and taunt.

The tanuki was right. Of all people, Byakuya should know; things were never made better by death. When Rukia was gone, Renji would hate Byakuya for not fighting for her more. The one thing he had started fighting for, he’d lose: Renji. Renji would never understand that Byakuya was being torn in two by conflicting promises: his promise to Hisana to keep Rukia safe and his promise to his parents to uphold the law.

How could he? Byakuya could hardly comprehend it, himself. Why had taken such foolish oaths, and why did he feel so bound to uphold them?

Because.

Without prayer, the only thing that bound the universe together, that kept it from unraveling, was honor and respect of the law.

It had been hard to take Rukia into his life, but, despite the pain, she had brought him joy. He loved Rukia the most when she diverged from Hisana and surprised him with her humor, her crassness, her… spunk. Upholding his word, no matter the cost, had been the right thing to do.

So, it had been a good promise to his parents, too. He upheld tradition, honor, and law. If he’d abandoned Rukia after adopting her into the family because it wasn’t convenient, because he couldn’t stand to be constantly reminded of Hisana, he would have had none of the good moments. And there had been days when he would have happily turned his back on her forever. But, he’d thought of what he’d promised to his parents, and he’d stuck it out.

The two promises had always worked so perfectly in harmony before.

Now it was just impossible to know what to do. To keep one promise, he would have to break the other.

He sighed. Unless, of course, he could figure out what Aizen’s connection to Rukia was. If, somehow, Aizen or Ichimaru’s crime was worse than Rukia’s perhaps there was a legal way to….

No. He needed to let go. Even if he could find out what Aizen had been up to before he was murdered, Rukia was still going to be executed for her crime.

And Renji would still hate him for it.

Just as he was probably angry with him right now for all the guards, the handcuffs, and imprisonment. Byakuya might be able to explain to Renji it had been for his own good, but he’d resent that, too.

Byakuya stood up and glared at the tanuki. “I hate this chaos in my heart. If I didn’t care for anyone, it would never hurt to lose them.”

The tanuki continued to smile, and glance wistfully at the moon, as if to say, ‘So you may think. But the irony is that only the risk of reaching for impossible dreams keep your soul light and free. To truly win at all in life, you must be willing to lose.’

Byakuya frowned. Had the statue spoken to him? Or had all his nights without sleep finally caused him to hallucinate? And, if so, why would he dream up such an infuriating response.

Light filtered through the wild tangle of trees as Byakuya continued to stare at the smiling god. Finally, since it seemed to have grown silent, he turned his back on it and walked away. “We shall see, wild dog,” he said.

 _Indeed_ , the wind seemed to whisper through the trees, _we will_.

**Author's Note:**

> I need to decide how to handle what comes next. The big Byakuya/Renji fight comes next, and I *think* I've set up what I see as their mind-set going into it. I don't want to try to re-write anything as awesome as the fight itself, since Kubo-sensei did a bang-up job, IMHO. So... my question to you all is: what would you like to see next? I think maybe a post-fight moment with Byakuya would be good, but, Renji is pretty preoccupied right up until the end of this arc. 
> 
> Ideas?


End file.
